


The stars knew not / where their stations were

by duckmoles



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Disability, Gen, Growing Up, Magic, Multi, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Precognition, Role Reversal, The Nine Realms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-15 01:58:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14781443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckmoles/pseuds/duckmoles
Summary: When Odin found the infant frost giant in the abandoned temple, the first thing he felt was a sense of relief. He needed an heir, after all, and his own son would never be king.(A role reversal, of sorts.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Premise inspired by [In the Wake of Summer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3207386). That was published pre-AoU, so I'll say it's also inspired by the prophecies in AoU and Ragnarok.

Loki waited impatiently outside of Thor’s rooms as Thor got dressed, practically bouncing on his toes.

“Loki,” his mother called out from inside the room, “I can hear you wearing down the floor from in here. By the Norns, come in before you burn a hole through the wood.”

Loki smiled and slipped in with granted permission.

Thor stood in the center of the room, while Frigga stood in front of him, draping a fur cloak over his shoulders in preparation for the festival. The room was a mess, as it usually was, clothes thrown about the floor for the servants to pick up later, an abandoned shield in one corner.

“Loki,” Frigga said when she saw him come in, “you were supposed to get dressed before you came in to see Thor.”

Loki looked down at himself, his half-tied tunic and unlaced boots. With a shimmer and a grin, he quickly overlaid an illusion over himself that made him look impeccably dressed.

Frigga shook her head in exasperation, but smiled nonetheless. She ran her fingers through Thor’s hair. “We’ll braid this, hmm?” she said.

“I can help,” Loki said quickly, running closer.

Frigga looked reluctant.

“We can head over when we’re done,” Loki said.

Thor was grinning, head tilted towards Loki. “It’s alright, mother,” he said. “I’ll be fine.” His hands twisted in the ties of his cloak.

“Alright,” Frigga decided. “Loki, help your brother get ready. Don’t be late.”

“We won’t,” Loki promised.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Thor flopped down on his bed. “Thank you, Loki,” he groaned. “She’s been fussing around me all day.”

Loki sat down next to him. “Get up, you oaf,” he said. “I said I’d braid your hair.”

Thor rolled over onto his stomach. “I can do it myself,” he grumbled into his sheets.

“Not if you want it looking like a crow’s nest. Remember the last time you did your hair yourself? Sif was laughing for days on end,” Loki said. “Up, up.”

Loki pushed Thor up so that his back faced towards him and began running his fingers through his hair, combing it out smoothly.

“Sometimes I wonder which of us is supposed to be oldest,” Thor said as Loki separated out sections of his hair to braid.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.” Sure, Loki had to take care of Thor more often than not, but Thor was still his _older_ brother. It was an irrefutable fact, like that Loki had black hair and Thor had blond. That wouldn’t ever change.

“I had a dream last night,” Thor said suddenly, and Loki froze in the middle of folding one blond strand over another.

Thor’s dreams, everyone knew, were gifts given to him by the Norns. Loki had heard the story a countless number of times: Thor was born with a storm at his back, thunder rumbling as he slipped out of Frigga’s womb, and the three sisters had appeared, thread tangled between their fingers, and given him a gift.

“Was I in it?” Loki asked carefully, slowly finishing the first braid and grabbing a leather tie to finish it off. It was always best to encourage Thor when he got like this, they had learned, because you never knew what he might say.

“I’m not sure,” Thor said. “It was very cold. Heimdall was there.”

Loki wondered, sometimes, what it was like for Thor. Thor, who was only allowed to play with wooden swords, who was supervised nearly _all the time_. In contrast, Loki always kept a dagger that their father had gifted to him during his 400 th birthday in his belt and was allowed to do whatever he wanted as long as he continued to excel in his lessons, which he always did.

“It was at the Bifrost,” Thor said slowly. “The stars…” He shook his head. “The stars were beautiful.”

That was the thing with Thor, Loki thought. He never got to the important parts fast enough. He always got caught up in stuff like the stars. If Loki had his power…

“You said Heimdall was there?” Loki prodded. “What was he doing?”

Thor shook his head, messing up all of Loki’s hard work. “Hurry, Loki. Mother said we can’t be late.”

Loki almost tore his hair – both his and Thor’s – out in frustration. “I’m not done yet,” he said, though he had been purposely redoing and redoing the last braid. “And I never will be if you keep moving. You were talking about your dream?” He didn’t even know why Thor was so eager to go. He knew that Thor hated showing up in front of a crowd, reminding everyone that he wasn’t the warrior that he wanted to be.

“Heimdall. He was standing in a ruined hall, open to the air.”

“Really?” It was hard to imagine Heimdall doing anything but standing in the observatory, watching and waiting for someone to need his services.

“Yes. He was holding his sword and…”

“And?” Loki prompted, tugging on Thor’s hair when he trailed off.

Thor didn’t answer for some time. “Mother said I should be careful about who I should tell my dreams to,” he said at last.

By the gods. “I’m your brother,” Loki said, rolling his eyes. “You never have to be careful around me.”

Thor laughed slightly, under his breath. “You’re right,” he said. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Loki smiled.

“Heimdall swung the sword, and it looked like he was going to hit me, but instead he hit some creature. Its skin was rotting and it fell apart as soon as Heimdall cut its head off.” Thor inhaled deeply. “And then I woke up.”

With a twist, Loki finished the last braid. He ran his fingers through Thor’s hair again and stood up. “I’m done,” he said. “Let’s go. Mother will be waiting for us.” He watched as Thor stood and held his arm out for Thor to take. Thor’s left arm slipped through Loki’s right, Thor’s head tilting downwards, hiding his clouded eyes from view.

“Mother said I shouldn’t try too hard to make sense of my dreams,” Thor said.

“That’s probably wise,” Loki said.

“I have my own thoughts about them,” Thor said.

“And they are?”

Thor shrugged. “I think everything turns out fine, in the end. My mind just tends to cut that bit out.”

Even so young, Loki could tell that Thor’s thoughts were little more than a delusion. “Maybe,” he said.

“What’re we celebrating again?” Thor asked. He had a hard time keeping track of dates, Frigga had explained to Loki once. His tendency to mix up the past, present, and future was a side effect of his gift, and they should try and be patient with him. For Loki’s part, he was sick of constantly walking on eggshells around Thor, constantly scolded for even looking at Thor the wrong way.

“It’s the first night of Vetrnaetr,” Loki said, guiding Thor out the door and through the hallways to the feasting hall. He leaned in closer to Thor as he said, “I heard father invited a few of the elves to come celebrate the end of the harvest with us.”

Thor smiled. “I’ve dreamed of Alfheim. Their queen is quite lovely.”

Loki shoved Thor playfully, and Thor laughed. “Gross,” Loki muttered.

“Not as gross as you,” Thor said. “Using magic to cover the fact that you aren’t even fully dressed.”

Loki gasped in mock offense. “I look great in everything, not like you’d know,” he said.

A servant using magic to carry a stack of plates behind him rushed by; they were nearing the feasting hall. Loki could hear the loud chatter and laughter even from where they stood, and he was sure Thor could as well.

“They’re all waiting for us.”

Thor looked up at Loki’s words. Loki brushed away some of the hair in his face that neither he nor Thor ever bothered about, but both Frigga and Odin would throw a fit if they knew that Loki would let his brother out there, in front of everyone, without being properly groomed.

“C’mon,” Loki said. He was already looking forward to the cheers they’d get when they walked in. 

Thor was silent as they walked to the front door.

“Loki,” Thor said just as they were about to step in.

Loki stopped. “Yes?”

Thor stared at him. Loki thought that those eyes were the most terrifying thing about his brother, never mind the powers that he had. It was unnerving, the way his eyes, clouded and emotionless, seemed to bore into Loki even though Loki knew that they were unseeing.

Thor shook his head, breaking the spell. “Never mind,” Thor said. “Let’s go.”


	2. Chapter 2

Once, Loki had asked Thor, half-jokingly, what his future held.

They were sitting in the weapons room, and Thor was helping Loki clean his blades. Father had finally let Thor onto the training grounds, on the condition that one of the Warriors Three watched him and made sure that he stayed to his solo exercises and never actually fought anyone. It was early evening, just after they finished training, and Thor and Loki were both still breathing heavily and worn out from the exercise.

Thor had smiled, in that absentminded way of his that made all of the adults swoon, and said, “You fall.” Then, he had turned back to wiping off one of Loki’s knives.

Loki kept that in his mind as he trailed Thor’s sounds of distress to Frigga and Odin’s room. If this was going to be something about him, he had to know. He passed a few guards and a few late night wanderers, but it wasn’t new for anyone to see the princes slipping out in the middle of the night, especially Loki.

“My boy,” Odin was saying to Thor as Loki crept closer, “you’re too old for this nonsense.”

“Odin,” Frigga chastised.

Thor’s sniffling trailed off. “Father, you were asleep,” he said wetly, “and mother was sitting next to you, waiting for you to wake up. Loki was there. I wasn’t.”

When Thor didn’t speak again, Frigga said, “Don’t be afraid to tell us.”

Thor must’ve been on their bed, laying between them, even though Loki would be scolded if he tried the same thing.

“I’m sorry,” Thor said.

“Thor?”

A shuffling noise, and Thor ran past Loki, nearly tripping over the doorway, and turned down the hall to make his way to his room.

In the room: a sigh.

“The Odinsleep,” Odin murmured. “He prophesizes of tragedy.”

“Not necessarily,” Frigga said, softly. “He promised us that this was the best route to take.”

“And the best route begins with tragedy. That does not bode well for any of us.”

“He’s only a child, my love. There’s much he doesn’t see, or doesn’t care to notice.”

“I worry,” Odin said.

“I know you do. But there is no use in worrying.”

Silence, for a few moments. Loki moved closer to the open door, straining to listen.

“Sleep,” Frigga said. It was hard to tell who she was speaking to.

When there was nothing else forthcoming, Loki slowly walked away, careful not to make a sound. Best not to give up the game so close to finishing.

The Odinsleep. He’s heard a few things about it, whispers here and there, but nothing concrete. No one wants to scare the young prince, after all. Loki wondered if Thor knew, if Thor’s visions told him.

Maybe he would ask.

The hallways were dark, lit only by small fires that burned here and there, but Loki was used to such darkness, especially this route.

He went into Thor’s room.

Thor sat in the middle of his bed, running his hands over the small battle-axe, slightly blunted for safety, that Heimdall had given him. He looked up as Loki stepped in, the floorboards creaking under his feet.

“It’s me,” Loki said.

“Loki,” Thor said, soft and solemn, as he always sounded. “It’s late.”

“I was listening to your conversation,” Loki confessed.

“Oh.”

The light shining from the open door cast dark shadows on Thor’s face. Like this, he looked strange and alien, and Loki wondered if this was why people avoided Thor when they could. Like this, he looked like a ghost, magical and mystical like the soothsayer that he was.

Loki closed the door and cast a spell for some light.

Like this, bathed in the warm glow of Loki’s magic, Thor’s features softened. Now, he only looked like Loki’s brother, sincere and stolid, content to sit by the training grounds and listen as Loki clashed blades with the Einherjar and practiced magic with Frigga and the sorcerers.

It was a shame Thor never showed much of an interest in magic, even if he himself was seidr personified. It was something mother and father would be willing to let him learn, given its reputation as a safer combat method than hand-to-hand, but Thor stubbornly stayed close to his battle-axes and swords and spears. Magic would give Thor some way to protect himself, at the least, even if the use of it would debase him further.

“Father said that you were dreaming of the Odinsleep. He was worried.” Loki paused slightly before saying, “Should he be?”

Thor bit his lip. His emotions were so easy to read, Loki thought, constantly bubbling up to the surface and revealing every little lie and thought. Once, he and Loki had snuck out to the observatory to talk to Heimdall, and when confronted, Heimdall barely had an opportunity to open his mouth before Thor spilled.

Loki didn’t need a verbal answer to his question, because the truth was written all across Thor’s face, in the furrow of his brow and the red on his cheeks: the Odinsleep, whatever it was, spelled out doom for all of them.

Thor pushed his toy – it could be called nothing else, no matter how any of them pretended otherwise – weapon onto the floor. It hit the ground with a soft thump. “Loki,” he said, voice wavering, thick with emotion. Fear, perhaps. Regret. Longing.

“Yes, brother?”

“Loki, I’m scared.”

Loki bit his lip. It was too easy to be loose around Thor, knowing of his innate nature and that he couldn’t see any of your tells. Loki climbed into bed next to him. “Don’t be scared,” he said. “Don’t be scared.” It felt strange, comforting Thor like this, when his own chest felt so tight at Thor’s words.

He stayed there for the rest of the night listening to the rumble of Thor’s snores, thinking of what the future may bring. Thor slept easily and deeply. Loki slipped out sometime before dawn.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> little bit of a timeskip here

Loki swung the hammer loosely at his side. He was exhausted, having just returned from a diplomatic mission with Hogun in Vanaheim. It was his first official outing as a potential heir to the throne and representative of Asgard, and Mjolnir still weighed heavy in his hands, having been given to him only a few hours before he stepped foot onto the rainbow bridge.

It was a good weapon, its uru easily accepting Loki’s magic and enchantments, but it seemed far too unwieldy, to say the least. Loki knew Odin was aware of his affinity for politick rather than the blunt threat of power Odin had been known to use from time to time, and so didn’t say anything when the hammer was foisted upon him. It was simple strategy, Loki knew, to show the likely heir was just as capable as the father.

Still, Loki knew that Odin was reluctant to give Mjolnir to Loki. Why, he couldn’t quite pin down. Perhaps it was because Loki preferred the blade far more than any blunt object he might have to swing. Perhaps Odin still held a lingering attachment to the hammer, even though he hasn’t wielded it in millennia. No matter the reason, Thor had been one to convince Odin to let Loki have the weapon, saying that it was vitally important to the future of Asgard. When he said it like that, there were few that would argue with him.

Loki rolled his eyes. Thor knew exactly of the influence he held, and he wielded it as casually as he drank or ate or worked out on the training grounds, building up muscle that he would never be able to use. It was a pity Thor was a terrible liar, because Loki practically salivated at the mischief that they’d be able to cause together. Not that Loki still did that. He was the prince, after all.

And as the prince, it was his solemn duty to head back to his chambers and take a nice, long nap.

Just as he neared the entrance to the sleeping quarters, he heard, “Loki!” from behind him.

Loki sighed, wondering if was appropriate behavior for him to bash in the head of whoever had just decided to call him. He turned around.

Loki smiled, or tried his best to. “Lady Sif,” he said. “What brings you here today?”

“I’m not here for you,” Sif said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Oh?” Loki’s smile grew, this time for real. “Have you come, perhaps, to visit my dear brother? Has your relationship changed so grandly since I left? I’ve only been gone a year.”

To her credit, Sif didn’t even look offended.

“Asgard didn’t cease to exist when you left, Loki. It continues, regardless of your presence.” She pursed her lips, looking anxious, or as anxious as Sif could look. “Speaking of Thor, it would be remiss of you not to visit him today. He’s been. . .” She didn’t finish her sentence, making instead a vague gesture that Loki didn’t try and comprehend.  

She gave Loki a meaningful look and blew past him, heading into the wing where most of the bedrooms were, including Loki’s and Thor’s. 

Loki stood there for a while, arms crossed over his chest, letting Mjolnir swing absently from his belt.

Before he left, Thor had been immersing himself in the training grounds, spending nearly every waking second there. The warriors indulged him, for the most part. Sif taught him proper fighting stances and moves, Volstagg wrestled him carefully, and Fandral kept an eye on him as he ran around the palace grounds. He was also, hesitatingly, trying to learn control over his magical affinity to storms and lightning, but clouds still gathered in the air above Asgard whenever he became angry or otherwise distraught.  

Loki looked outside through the large windows in the hall. The climate was fair, and the skies blue and cloudless. A cool breeze entered from the windows, blowing Loki’s hair to the side. He ran a hand through his hair, fixing it into place. 

Loki thought for a moment, then a moment more, then cast a spell. He stood still as the magic swept over him, rendering him invisible to all except maybe Heimdall. Then he walked into the hall.

Loki made his way to Thor’s room and pressed his ear to the door. He could hear Thor and Sif talking in low, subdued voices. There was a thump, and Loki’s eyebrows flew to his hairline.

There were the sound of footsteps nearing the door. Loki stepped back and to the side, pressing himself to the wall next to the door.

The door opened.

“- you’ve seen him, then?” Thor was asking as he walked out, holding on to Sif’s outstretched arm.

As they walked, Loki followed.

“Yes,” Sif replied. “I suspect he’s gone to rest in his room.”

“It was a long trip,” Thor said. “I would do the same.”

“No, you wouldn’t. If it were up to you, you’d have a feast prepared the moment you stepped off the bridge.”

“Perhaps,” Thor said. “If I ever get the opportunity, I swear to you that the feast they’ll hold in my honor will be greatest Asgard has ever known. They’ll sing tales of my bravery and courage until the giants come to devour us.”

“If?”

“I don’t see everything that comes ahead, Lady Sif. If I did, I wouldn’t need you or anyone to guide my steps so I don’t trip over a pebble.”

There was a sharp edge of resentment in his voice, one Loki never would’ve expected from his brother.

“You see enough,” Sif said. “After all, if it wasn’t for you vouching for my future battle glory, my parents would’ve never allowed me to fight on Asgard’s behalf.”

“It was inevitable,” Thor said, in his serious, prophesizing tone.

They exited the palace, the guards lowering their weapons and bowing slightly as Thor and Sif walked by. Loki had to duck under the spears as they clanged above him.

“Your doom and foreboding is always fun to listen to,” Sif said.

Thor laughed as they walked through the city, weaving in and out of the populace. Loki stayed to the sides of the streets, straining to continue listening to their conversation.

The topic turned to idle gossip as they left the center of the city and onto the Bifrost.

Loki nearly fell off the bridge when he realized that Thor and Sif were planning to go to Heimdall. Were they planning on going somewhere? Where were they going? As far as he knew, Thor had never set foot outside Asgard before. Or were they consulting Heimdall? Did Thor have a dire vision that he needed to consult Heimdall about?

Heimdall stood at the end of the bridge, in front of the observatory, holding his sword in both hands.

As they reached him, Heimdall inclined his head.

“Your highnesses,” Heimdall said.

Thor and Sif bowed their heads as well, stepping into the observatory with Heimdall. Sif reached behind her, pulled out a staff from its straps, and handed it to Thor.

Loki watched in fascination as Heimdall hefted up his sword in both hands and took a stance, armor clinking together slightly as he moved. Thor settled into a mirroring stance.

The ensuing fight was. . . interesting, to say the least. Loki had rarely seen Heimdall fight, but even he could tell that Heimdall was tempering his swings, hitting Thor only with the flat and even then only lightly. Thor fought valiantly, his eyes closed in concentration, biting his cheek, blocking an impressive majority of Heimdall’s swings.

As Loki watched, Thor improved right before his eyes, catching a low swing with the end of his staff that he had been missing the whole session. By the time they were done, Thor’s skin was glistening with sweat, while Heimdall seemed barely disturbed.

Loki thought back to before he left. Thor had already been trying to improve his physical strength, but never by fighting like this. There was a reason he had to go to Heimdall for training, because Odin and Frigga would’ve never allowed this, and none of the other warriors would’ve dared face the king and queen’s wrath. Now, there was little doubt that Thor was becoming a formidable force, even if he’d never be allowed on the battlefield.

Thor gave the staff back to Sif. He bowed slightly to Heimdall. “Thank you,” he said, slightly out of breath.

Heimdall said nothing as Thor and Sif walked out of the observatory and back towards the palace. When their shapes had been reduced to small pricks on the horizon, Heimdall said, “Prince Loki.”

Loki startled, losing the cloak of invisibility he had casted on himself.

Damn it. He thought he’d had it this time.

 “Your brother insisted on this a month after you left,” Heimdall said. “I suspect he may have wanted to prove his worth.”

Loki’s grip tightened on Mjolnir, which felt hot on his skin, almost burning.

“He doesn’t need to do that. All he has to do is fall asleep.”

Heimdall’s face stayed impassive. “Even so.” He walked out of the observatory and onto the bridge. “He could be a powerful warrior, someday, if he keeps this up.”

Loki imagined Thor on the battlefield, a storm crackling around him as he swung a sword or an axe. It seemed oddly fitting, if hard to conciliate with the Thor he remembered curling up in Frigga’s arms after a bad dream.

All that power, Loki thought, and he wants to waste it on a battle.

For the first time in his life, Loki imagined Thor sitting on his throne, eyes clouded as his people bowed before him, clutching a war hammer in his hands and wearing a crown on his head. As far as Loki could remember, it has always been presumed that he would be the one to take Odin’s place when the time came. Thor, blind and useless, could only ever act as an advisor to the crown with his visions. The king had to be a warrior, after all, and that was something Thor could never be.

(Thor curling up in Frigga’s arms while Loki watched, invisible and unseen.)

Loki couldn’t understand why Thor felt the need to continue his madness, when it was he that got all the spoiling their parents could lavish on him in the first place. Loki was the one that had to work to be seen as powerful. Thor was born with power thrumming through his veins.

Mjolnir felt heavy in his hand.

“You should go talk to your brother,” Heimdall said, oblivious.

“Perhaps,” Loki said.

The sky was clear. There would be no storm that day.


	4. Chapter 4

The envoy to Nidavellir consisted of Loki, Sif, a few of the Einherjar, and Thor, who had insisted he come.

It was, to Loki’s knowledge, Thor’s first time offworld, but he didn’t look as anxious as Loki thought he might. His face was passive as he held a staff across the length of his body and fidgeted in his armor as they traveled from where the Bifrost had put them to the main forges.

It was a shame Thor couldn’t see the sight of the dying star at the heart of the planet, pulsing with energy and power as it fueled the fiery furnaces of the dwarves, but the sound of the dwarves’ enchanted sledges pounding at the uru rang out in steady, deafening rhythms that had Thor swaying slightly to the beat. 

The dwarf king barely noticed when they approached, too busy hammering a red-hot sword into submission. They watched as he plunged the blade back into the fires, softening it again for a brief moment before he drew it back out onto the anvil and started shaping it again. Another dwarf ran up to him and started talking rapidly.

Dwarf was a misnomer. The smallest dwarf was perhaps three or four heads taller than Thor, the tallest of their group, and the dwarf king, straightening up as a dwarf took over working on the sword, had all of them nearly bending over in order to look him in the eye.

“Asgardians,” Eitri said. “It’s a pleasure to see you.”

“Your Majesty,” Loki said, bowing slightly.

Eitri leaned down towards Loki, stroking his voluminous red beard.

“You wield Mjolnir,” Eitri said. “I remember making that hammer for your father, over half a million years ago. Tell me, young prince, how do you find its craft?”

Loki hefted Mjolnir in his right hand and moved it to his left, testing its grip and balance. “The handle is perhaps a little short,” he said. He returned the hammer to his belt. Beside him, he heard Thor laugh, quiet enough that no one else would be able to catch the change in his breath.

Eitri laughed, long and hard, whole body consumed by it, and Loki had the feeling the king approved of him.

“Yes,” the king said when his laughter died out. “A mistake in manufacturing. Still, it sits among my best work.” His gaze swept over the rest on the envoy, landing on Thor.

Loki followed his line of sight, holding his breath.

“Prince Thor,” Eitri said.

Thor tightened his grip on his staff and turned away from Sif to face the king.

Loki stepped in before anyone could say something colossally idiotic and offend someone. “King Eitri,” he said, “we come not just to make a friendly visit. We seek your armories.”

Eitri swung his gaze back to Loki. “As per usual,” he said.  

Their ancient treaty between Asgard and Nidavellir still held strong: Odin and his forces would aid in protecting the realms and Nidavellir would do the same, providing arms and firepower. The acquirement of new arms for the ogre rebellion at Vanaheim was a fairly simple mission for Loki and Thor to go on, all things considered.

As Loki and the envoy followed Eitri, he fell back to walk next to Thor, whose face was damp with sweat from the heat of the forges. He had always been susceptible to changes in temperature, bundling himself up in countless wool and fur blankets when it grew cold and nearly shedding every ounce of clothing he had when the opposite occurred. Loki felt his own body complain of the heat, though he generally was able to stay cooler in the sun.

“You do not need to fend for me,” Thor said when Loki took his arm, scowling. “I can handle my own.”

Oh, Loki knew that well enough. He had been, admittedly, avoiding Thor ever since he observed the training session between he and Heimdall. They had barely spoken for more than a few minutes at a time. Loki felt bad, sometimes, for to Thor it must have seemed that his brother had returned from a long journey abroad only to come home and abandon him, but the skin-crawling sensation that crept up whenever he spoke to Thor more than surpassed the guilt. Loki suspected that was the reason Odin sent the two of them to Nidavellir when the job could be easily handled by another delegate.

“Here,” Eitri said, showing them to a large metal building, similar to a longhouse. Inside was a grand armory, larger than Loki would have ever expected, with weapons nearly piling up over one another. Eitri moved easily through the stacks, while the Asgardians carefully maneuvered as to not cut themselves on any stray blades that stuck out. He stopped in front of a wall of swords.

Eitri surveyed the wall for a few seconds before selecting one sword from the rack. It looked small in his hands.

He smiled at the Asgardians. “For the Lady Sif,” he declared, presenting the sword to her. It was straight, single-bladed, plain with no decorations.

She took it and bowed deeply. Then, she struck at one of the Einherjar, who quickly raised his shield, barely blocking her blow. She settled back into a loose stance, barely hiding the smile on her face. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

King Eitri surveyed them. Finally, he said, “I wish to confer with the prince Thor. Alone.”

There was a shuffle of movement in the Asgardians, and then Loki stepped forward. “Your Majesty, I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but my brother Thor –“

Eitri cut him off. “I’ve heard enough of him. I wish to speak to him alone.” He had one hand on his beard and the other clutching the axe that hung at his belt. “Don’t worry. I have no ill intents.”

Thor leaned in close to Loki, placing his hand on Loki’s shoulder. “I’ll be fine, brother.”

Thor stepped forward, hands held loosely at his side.

Loki felt the king’s gaze on their backs as they exited the armory. His hands twitched, wanting to hold Mjolnir, wanting to feel comfort in the knowledge that he was perhaps the most powerful warrior on this barren landscape of a planet. As soon as they had exited the building, the deafening chatter and sound of forging coalesced on them, making Loki’s bones vibrate with the noise.

Sif stood at his side, while the rest of his guard stood further behind them.

“I don’t like this any more than you do,” Sif said plainly. “But Thor’s right.”

Loki turned toward her, arching an eyebrow. “About what?”

“You treat him like a child,” she said, and before Loki could object, she continued, “You have been avoiding him ever since your return from Vanaheim. I can’t think of any reason, save for the one that’s most unsavory for your character.”

“Lady Sif,” Loki said, hiding his amusement, “whatever you believe, I assure you that I do care for my brother dearly still. If I’ve done what you’re accusing me of, it’s merely our royal duties interfering with our personal lives.”

Sif rolled her eyes. “You lie too easily, Loki.” She gestured to the hammer that hung at Loki’s side. “You think yourself above him, don’t you. That’s why you can’t bear to be a second around him.”

Loki thought his mind had frozen over, and then he processed what Sif had said.

He almost burst out laughing.

There was no world – no universe, no possible future – where Loki thought himself better than _Thor_.

Thor, his big brother, who had slept with him in the same bed until they were almost two centuries old. Thor, who had been the first to teach Loki magic, even if Loki surpassed him now. Thor, who walked his way through Asgard with a smile on his lips, chatting to every passing stranger who hailed him.

Loki didn’t laugh, but it was a funny thought nonetheless.

“I assure you,” Loki said, struggling to keep his voice steady, “that’s as far from the truth as it could be.”

Sif stared at him, and whatever she saw must have satisfied her, because she nodded, once, and turned to face the closed door of the armory, which shone enough so that they could see their reflections, slightly off-color.

The door to the armory slammed open, and Thor and the king stepped out.

Thor tugged at his new bracers that encircled his forearms, which caught the light from the forges and reflected it back, making the metal glow ethereally. Loki reached out with his magic, and felt the familiar tug of Thor echoing back from the uru, as thick and heady as a summer storm.

Eitri looked pleased.

“King Eitri,” Thor announced, “has given me Jarngreipr, and promised us weapons to take to Asgard.”

Loki felt Mjolnir’s magic reach out for the bracers, as if calling to them. He wondered just what exactly Eitri had given Thor.

Thor’s head was held high, hair pushed back from his face.

“The king,” Thor continued, “also invited me to stay in Nidavellir.”

There was silence save for the background noise of the dwarves at work.

“I suppose you declined,” Sif said, low enough that Eitri wouldn’t hear.

“I agreed.”

Loki darted forward, grabbing Thor’s arm and pulling him towards himself.

“Are you mad?” Loki hissed. “We need you on Asgard, and Father –“

“Odin is still the king,” Thor interrupted. “And you’ve been doing well.”

“Father will never let you stay.” Loki didn’t say, _He values you too much_.

“He will.”

“We can’t leave you here alone.”

“ _You will_.”

“This is madness.”

“You _will_ let me stay,” Thor said. “Three years ago, I saw myself sparring with the dwarves, testing out their weapons.”

“Your visions are not law,” Loki snapped.

Thor was silent for a brief moment. “No,” he said finally. “But I have to stay here. I will learn – I will strengthen our alliance – I _will_ be useful.” He cut himself off as his voice started pitching upwards.

“And what will the people think, when they hear that a prince of Asgard is living in Nidavellir? You abandon us so easily, swayed by a few gifts and baubles?”

“We tell them I’m on a diplomatic mission.” Thor gripped Loki’s arms. “Brother.” His eyes were widened, his face open and flushed red.

Loki stared at Thor. This was Thor’s first time off planet, when Loki had already traveled much of the Nine Realms and beyond. Perhaps it was only fair that he give Thor the opportunity in turn.

But still, there was Father to consider. Odin  would be furious when he found out that Loki had let Thor stay, isolated, not knowing when he’d be back and unable to keep an eye on him. Unable to seek Thor’s prophecies.

Even still…

“Brother,” Thor said, once more.

Yes, Odin would be furious. But his anger would pass in time. And Thor needed this. And Loki needed Thor to be on his side.

Loki released his grip on Thor, and Thor did the same in turn.

“Fine,” Loki said. “But you owe me a favor for Father’s wrath I’ll have to face.”

Thor smiled. “I will,” he said.

Loki turned to King Eitri and bowed. “Your Majesty,” he said, “we thank you for your gifts and your offer.”

Eitri responded in kind.

When they left Nidavellir, carrying with them enough weapons to resupply their forces, one man short, Loki thought that he could feel the weight of Thor’s eyes on his back. He must’ve been imagining it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was the point where canon went flying out the window. so tell me what you think of it!


	5. Chapter 5

“You left your brother with the dwarves.”

Odin’s voice was calm. Peaceful, even.

“There was no arguing with him,” Loki said. “You know he always gets what he wants.”

Odin’s eyes flashed. “Do you know why, my son, I allowed him to go on the mission?”

 _I suspect you’re about to tell me_ , Loki thought, though he said nothing.

Odin sat on the throne, hand clenched around his spear. Loki avoided his stare.

“I allowed Thor, your brother and my eldest son, to go because I thought that you would be with him. You have traveled across the Nine Realms – you have experience. And what have you done?”

“You have left him on Nidavellir, alone.”

Loki wished Odin would be angry, or wear anything besides the placid emotionless expression he had on.

“Loki Odinson,” Odin said, “from now until your brother comes home, you are forbidden from leaving Asgard.”

“What?” Just as Loki began rushing up to the throne, he felt Odin’s magic – strong and potent – swirl around him and stop him in place. Loki settled for glaring. “Father, you can’t do this.”

 _It’s not my fault_ , Loki thought. 

Once, Loki had convinced Thor to help him steal sweets from the kitchen the night before a feast. Instead, they had stumbled upon the mead, which Thor had insisted they try – “We always seem to be drinking it, in the future.”

Frigga had found them, Thor hideously drunk and Loki halfway there, and promptly confined them to their rooms for the next few weeks. Thor had gotten a stern warning, while Loki was lectured to for hours on end on responsibility and dignity. Thor still got to go to the feast. Loki barely got a piece of bread for his troubles.

Odin stood up, banging the wooden handle of his spear on the ground. “I’m going to Heimdall. To correct your error.” He didn’t even look at Loki as he blew out of the room.

Loki nearly collapsed to the floor as Odin’s hold on him released, but he held himself steady. He had expected punishment, but imagining being stuck on Asgard – like a child – all while Thor spent his days on Nidavellir had him gritting his teeth and feeling for Mjolnir, curling his fingers around the handle of the hammer. He was lucky Odin didn’t take that away either.

The throne room was empty, now that Odin was gone. Loki exited as well, to – to do what, he didn’t know.

He passed a young man and stopped him, asking him for directions, and before he knew it he had found his way to Sif’s room in the warriors’ quarters. For her credit, she didn’t look at all surprised when she opened the door Loki standing outside her quarters.

“Your Highness,” she said, stepping out of her room and closing the door behind him. “I’d think you’d be resting after our long trip.”

Loki almost snorted with laughter. “Let’s not dance around the issue, my lady. My father is furious.”

She raised her left eyebrow imperiously, and Loki had the strange feeling he was being mocked. “Surely you expected nothing else.”

“Surely,” Loki replied. “He has banned me from leaving Asgard.”

Sif uncrossed her arms, the look on her face softening somewhat with sympathy. “Then who will lead the diplomatic missions to Muspelheim coming the next moon?”

Loki closed his eyes. “I suppose he’ll send someone else. Or cancel the trip altogether.” He opened his eyes again. “I haven’t seen my mother yet,” he said. “I shudder to think what she’ll do with me. Banish me, I suppose, and then I’ll be trapped between leaving and being grounded.”

“Does she know yet?”

“I hope not.” He paused. “I suppose I should tell her myself.”

“Cut off the limb before the rest is infected,” Sif supplied.

Gruesome metaphor, but Loki understood the point nonetheless.

“Wise words,” Loki said, straightening up. “Thank you for your enlightening advice, Lady Sif.”

She watched him, eyes glinting, as he strode away.

When Loki stepped through the opened door into the sitting room, Frigga sat atop a carved wooden chair, reading.

The door shut behind him.

“Mother,” Loki got out as Frigga set her book down. She was smiling.

“Welcome home,” she said warmly.

“Mother,” Loki said before she could say anything else. He needed to say this quickly. “Thor decided to stay on Nidavellir. I left him there.”

Frigga’s expression immediately hardened. It was, to an untrained observer, calm, though Loki knew better.

“Indefinitely?” she asked, finally.

“Until he seems fit to come back,” Loki said. “Father has already gone to Heimdall to negotiate with the dwarves.”

Loki didn’t dare look her in the eyes, instead focusing on a fixed point just under her cheek.

“Loki,” she said.

“Yes.”

Frigga sighed, and Loki wondered when the shoe would drop – when Frigga would burst out into a flurry of overprotectiveness and anger.

“Sit down, Loki,” she said, softly.

Loki sat on the chair next to her.

Frigga looked at him, face unreadable, and said, “I wonder sometimes if we put too much on you.”

Loki stared. This was not the direction that he expected the conversation would be going. He had thought a lot more magic would be flying around at this point.

Frigga closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. “I know we’ve always impressed on you why you need to protect Thor – and for good reason, of course – but you’re both still so young, and your father already insists on grooming you to become kings.”

“It’s… valuable experience,” Loki ventured.

“Perhaps,” Frigga said. “Or perhaps you’re not ready yet – neither of you.”

The words hurt, almost as if they were physical objects stabbing into Loki over and over again. Even if it was his fault that Thor still stood on Nidavellir, which it decidedly wasn’t, he had already done so much for Asgard – did she still doubt him so? He almost wished that Frigga would lash out like Odin had done.

“If so,” Frigga continued, “then we only have ourselves to blame. Frigga sat up again and opened her eyes, something dark swirling in her expression. “Don’t think I’m not angry at you,” she said. “I am deeply, deeply furious. It was your job to protect your brother, and you allowed him to stay, alone, on Nidavellir.”

“Father has forbidden me from leaving Asgard,” Loki said.

Frigga nodded. “We love you,” she said. “Both of you.”

Loki knew a dismissal when he heard one.


End file.
